


light one candle

by XenomorphLiebe



Category: Alien (Prequel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hanukkah, in which I indulge my headcanon that Daniels is Jewish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21845407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XenomorphLiebe/pseuds/XenomorphLiebe
Summary: Daniels celebrates Hanukkah with Walter.
Relationships: Daniels & Walter (Alien Movies), Daniels/Walter (Alien Movies)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	light one candle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SarahT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahT/gifts).



Daniels considered the makeshift menorah—if it could even be called that. The menorah consisted of five candles (some short, some tall, some thick, others thin, none exactly the same) lined up in the semblance of a straight line on a rock shelf which had hosted one of David’s disgusting experiments before Daniels had repurposed the area. The attendant candle—or the _shamash_ , if Daniels remembered the name correctly—rested nearby atop a pile of David's sketchings. She had assembled the menorah from the numerous candles that were littered throughout David’s lair. She laughed softly.

“Praise the Lord that he was such a drama queen,” she muttered.

Daniels scowled. David had stolen the _Covenant_ , stranding Walter and her on this lifeless rock. Thankfully, the planet still sustained plant life—it had sustained much more once, before David. Although Daniels was grateful that she wouldn’t starve, having her basic needs met created new challenges, namely, boredom. Daniels had spent much of her time here laying in the collection of rags that she called her bed. At first, her injuries had forced her to remain in bed as she recuperated with Walter's aid. Then, she had chosen to stay there, losing herself in memories of the time before the _Covenant_ , before she had seen her husband burn and before she and her colleagues had been hunted down one by one in some sick game dreamed up by a false robotic god. While she dreamed during the day, her nights were one long, desperate bid to avoid dreaming at all costs. She often woke up screaming, the image of that creature forcing its way out of Hallett's throat burning in her mind. Fortunately, Walter was always there to hold her, to talk her down until she could breathe properly again.

Then, one day, she had grown sick of dreams. Instead, she assisted Walter with procuring food for her to eat. She also kept him company as he recharged in the sunlight. Daniels had poured over David's notes, hoping to find some weakness in his creatures that she could exploit when (not if, never if) they next faced him. Then, she had thrown herself into cleaning the obnoxious pest's lair, disposing of his experiments far, far away from the place. All too soon, however, she had stored away enough food to last her several winters (assuming that the planet experienced the season) and had washed out all of the seemingly infinite nooks and crannies that the lair contained.

Thus, the menorah. Although Daniels had not celebrated Hanukkah since she had left her parents’ home, she had decided that now was as good a time as any to celebrate the holiday (...and, if lighting the menorah helped ease the dull pain in her chest that she refused to label “homesickness,” then she wouldn’t complain about that either).

She placed the newest candle to the left of the five already sitting on the shelf. When she was a child, Daniels had listened to her parents as they recited the blessing in Hebrew before lighting the candles. However, she had discovered on the first night that she could not recall the words of the original blessing. So, she had decided to improvise.

“Fuck you, David. I’m coming for you and for your little fucked up experiments as well, you arrogant creep. I praise the Lord our God, who is going to help me fucking destroy you, you self-obsessed wannabe fascist!”

Daniels grinned. She lit the shamash, which she used to light the menorah candles, starting with the one that she had just set down. After all of the candles had been lit, Daniels returned the shamash to its place and took a step back to appreciate her work. She smiled at the sight of the dancing flames.

In her childhood, her family had sung hymns, such as _Maoz Tzur_ , after lighting the candles. However, Daniels could not remember the words; Hebrew had never been her strength, even as a child. She only remembered enough of one hymn to hum a faltering, uncertain tune. As she had done on the previous nights, she hummed the tune, hoping all the while that doing so would help her remember the words. Daniels cursed. She desperately wracked her memory, trying to recall anything from her past that would connect the happy girl she had been with the furious woman she was now. Daniels crossed her arms and scrunched her brow in concentration as she began to remember a song from one of the records that her parents had owned. She hummed the tune as the lyrics slowly returned to her:

_Light one candle for the Maccabee children_  
_With thanks that their light didn’t die_  
_Light one candle for the pain they endured_  
_When their right to exist was denied_  
_Light one candle for the terrible sacrifice_  
_Justice and freedom demand_

“But light one candle for the wisdom to know,” Daniels sang softly, “When the peacemaker’s time is at hand.”

Her voice trailed off as she stared into the flickering candlelight.

“What are you doing?”

Daniels startled. She whipped to stare at Walter, who stood underneath the arch of the entryway into David's former laboratory.

“My apologies,” Walter stated in his typical monotone, “I did not intend to frighten you.”

“There’s no need to apologise, Walter. It’s not _your_ fault that I’m on edge,” Daniels replied, filling the word “your” with enough venom to kill anything, even a supposedly immortal android.

“Anyways...,” Daniels smiled at Walter, “You wanted to ask me something?”

“I asked, ‘What are you doing?’”

“I’m celebrating Hanukkah.”

Walter stared blankly at her.

Daniels sighed. Apparently, Weyland-Yutani had decided that Jewish holidays were not relevant enough to their mission to include information on them in Walter's memory banks.

“It’s a Jewish holiday. Over eight nights, we light the candles of the menorah to commemorate the miracle of the oil.”

Walter stared blankly at her.

Daniels took a deep breathe in. "I bet he knows what Christmas is," she thought.

“You see, there was only enough oil to light the temple candles for one night, but then the candles burned for eight whole nights, long enough for more oil to be brought to the temple.”

Walter stared blankly at her.

Daniels huffed, “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Essentially, what happened was that the Jews were under the rule of the Greeks and this one guy—his name was Antiochus—made it illegal on pain of death to practice Jewish cultural things like observing Shabbat in an effort to forcibly assimilate the Jews into Greek culture. So, this other guy called Judas the Maccabee, that is, “the hammer,” lead a small rebel force against the powerful Greek army, and somehow, despite the terrible odds that he faced, Judas won. So, in commemoration of the victory, candles were lit in the temple—a holy place where we Jews would make sacrifices to God—but the Jews discovered that the Greeks had polluted all but one jug of the oil required to light the candles, and that there was only enough oil to light the candles for a single night, and...blah blah blah...it’s a miracle...latkes!”

Daniels threw her hands up in the air as she shouted, “Latkes!”

An awkward pause stretched like taffy between the pair. Blushing, Daniels sheepishly lowered her hands.

“I see,” said Walter, “You are celebrating an existential victory, the decision to make right a grave injustice despite desperate odds.”

Daniels slowly nodded.

“I’ve never thought about it like that, but yeah, that’s one way of viewing it...Walter? Would you like to watch the candlelight with me?”

Walter froze.

Finally, he nodded his head once in affirmation.

Daniels smiled.

“You know, it’s traditional to sing songs together after lighting the candles. Before you came in, I remembered a song that my parents listened to when I was a child. Do you want to hear it?”

Walter nodded.

Daniels sang, “What is the memory that’s valued so highly that we keep it alive in that flame? What’s the commitment to those who have died”—her voice faltered—“that we cry out they’ve not died in vain?”

Daniels met Walter’s gaze as she continued to sing, her voice burning as bright as a flame.

“We have come this far always believing that justice would somehow prevail. This is the burden. This is the promise. This is why we will not fail!”

**Author's Note:**

> "Light One Candle" is a song by the group Peter, Paul, and Mary. You can listen to it on YouTube [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ez1uoXFbPjA).


End file.
